


Wonderful You Came By (A Pre-War AU)

by speedgriffon



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Pre-War, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a New Year and time for a new Madelyn Hardy. Still recovering from the loss of her husband in a war she does not support, she must rebuild her life from the ground up. Her friends and co-workers insist that she move on from a life of grief and take more chances, but Madelyn is stubborn as ever. After a chance encounter with a serviceman on New Years Eve, Madelyn’s hopes for future happiness begin to fade...that is until a letter from LT Danse arrives on her doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strangers in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @commander-cullywully ‘s one-shot she wrote for me as part of her giveaway. You can read it on her tumblr page. This literally picks up right after the events of that story so you may be confused if you don’t read it. This isn’t going to be a traditional chapter-fic (as in there isn't a real/strong plot driving the story) but it will be a slow-burn in a sense that it’ll have multiple parts that are in somewhat chronological order pertaining to the story I want to tell.

Madelyn is surprised by how easy it is for her to leave the party without being noticed by Piper or Nick. It isn’t until she is walking down the sidewalk with Danse next to her that she wonders if the two _know_ what is happening and are simply choosing not to intervene—for once. A large part of her is excited—and woefully nervous—to see if she can navigate this social interaction on her own. She wants to know if she is finally ready and able to move on from _Nate_.

Danse is somebody she wants to learn more about. How he is able to get past her defenses so easily and make her feel comfortable is still a mystery—Madelyn has friends and coworkers she’s known for years that have never gotten under her skin like he has. All in the span of an hour she feels closer to a person—a _man_ —she’s better off calling a stranger.

The diner down the road from the Old South building is practically deserted when Danse and Madelyn arrive. She is not surprised considering many commonwealth citizens will be ringing in the New Year at parties and bars for hours to come. There are a few vagrants scattered throughout the vinyl booths, as if unfazed that tonight is a cause for celebration. There is only one waitress behind the bar who silently motions for the pair to find a spot to sit on their own. Danse allows Madelyn to lead them to a booth away from the other occupants and before she can sit down he helps her remove her coat.

 _A gentleman_ , Madelyn thinks and smiles when she wonders if she can still call him that when their first interaction had been a _kiss_ —not that she minded. Madelyn busies herself by glancing over a menu on the table but can feel Danse’s eyes on her as he shrugs off his own coat, folding it not as neatly as hers next to him. The silence isn’t _too_ uncomfortable but Madelyn isn’t sure of what to say. Every sentence that she thinks of in her head sounds terribly cliché and she wonders how she was ever able to find a husband all those years ago. Nate used to praise her on her flirting skills and her charming personality but since his death she has been anything but her usual self. Madelyn closes her eyes for a moment and shakes the thought of her late husband away—she doesn’t want to be thinking about him right now.

“This isn’t something you do very often, is it?” Danse asks and Madelyn glances up from her menu, a little surprised by his voice. She is glad that he has decided to speak first though she can tell that he is just as anxious, his hands folded over his menu and thumbs circling. “Have midnight meals with strangers?”

“I typically don’t kiss strangers either.” Madelyn smiles and evens out her breathing in an attempt to calm herself down. It works, for now.

Danse nervously returns a smile of his own but the way his eyebrows bunch together in worry makes Madelyn glance at the not-so faded scar that cuts down over one eye. She wants to know where it came from and a smaller part of her wants to brush her fingertips across it. “I’ll apologize again. For overstepping—”

“I told you.” Madelyn interrupts and catches him off guard. “It was nice.” Her smile increases when she can tell that Danse is slowly relaxing despite the soft blush appearing on his cheeks. “I _liked_ it.”

Madelyn feels a small wave of confidence wash over her with the way Danse looks at her. She thinks that it has been a long time since anybody looked at her without some kind of pity or sadness and his expression can’t be further from it. Before either of them can speak again the waitress saunters over and Madelyn listens to Danse order nothing else but a chocolate shake. She isn’t all that hungry and follows his example, ordering a strawberry shake with a small _thank you_ to the obviously annoyed waitress.

“I have a sweet tooth.” Danse chuckles and Madelyn finds it all endearing. When she looks at him she can see that somebody else might think that he is intimidating but behind the rugged surface she is already discovering a soft heart. She likes it.

“Sugar bombs?”

Danse shakes his head. “Fancy Lads.”

Madelyn laughs and gains that mesmerized look from Danse once more. His eyes focus on hers, gaze dipping down more than once to her lips. He wants to kiss her— _again_ —Madelyn thinks and she wouldn’t mind if he did before the night is over.

“I’ll guess that you’re…a soldier?” Madelyn didn’t want to ask him, almost afraid of the answer.

There isn’t any other reason for a man that looked the way he did to be at the veteran’s party. Even without his uniform she can tell a military man apart from any civilian. Danse nods and Madelyn has to hide her disappointment. Piper is _always_ right—she has a type—and they just so happen to be military men who die for a living.

“Lieutenant.” Danse answers. “I’ve only just been promoted. We’re stretched thin and—” Madelyn must have frowned or else he wouldn’t have stopped talking. Danse raises an eyebrow. “Do you know somebody in the war?”

“W—what?” His question catches Madelyn off guard.

“I’m not naïve to think that this war doesn’t affect just the soldiers fighting it.” Danse explains. “We—they all have families who must live with their sacrifices.” There is compassion in his eyes when he nods at her. “A brother? A…husband?”

Madelyn clenches her jaw to hold back a physical response. She is surprised by how easily it is for him to see through her but all the same, it hurts. It is something she is not willing, not ready to share. She goes to twist the wedding band on her finger when she remembers she left it on her bureau before leaving for the party. It has been her nervous tick for months now and when Piper _suggests_ she take it off for one night it leaves her feeling naked, especially now.

Danse clears his throat. “I hope I didn’t offend you by asking.”

“No.” Madelyn offers a shaky smile but breaks eye contact. “I—I don’t know anybody. I just don’t approve of the war.” She snaps her eyes back to his face. “I mean no offense.”

“None taken.” Danse assures her by placing one of his hands over hers for a moment. Madelyn looks down at how small her hand is compared to his, how rough and calloused his fingers are where hers are soft and manicured. “We need a lighter topic.”

Their milkshakes arrive and keep them both occupied for a few brief moments, and already Madelyn misses his touch. She plucks the cherry from the top of her shake and is mid bite when he raises a brow at her.

“What do you do for a living?” Danse asks. “Do you work for the military?”

“I’m a lawyer.” She knows he is asking to learn why she was at the same party as him and she decides not to side step _this_ question. “Well…I just passed the bar last month. No cases yet.”

“A modern woman.” Danse is genuinely surprised. Most men find her initiative to stay busy and find work too _progressive_ but Madelyn has never been able to fit into the status quo. “Do you want your own practice?”

“That’s the dream.” Madelyn answers. _Right next to finding happiness_.

“What do you do for fun?” Danse is full of questions and Madelyn forgets that this is what it is like to start over again. You don’t learn everything about somebody in one hour—in one night.

“I—I don’t get out that often anymore.” Madelyn explains but doesn’t want to sound upset. “I go to the parks with my dog— _Dogmeat_.” Madelyn is almost embarrassed by the Shepard’s name until Danse laughs. “Silly, I know.”

“I once had a cat named Lieutenant Whiskers so…”

The two share their laughter, and their conversation continues well after they have emptied their milkshake glasses. Danse is easier to talk to than Madelyn first imagined and as the minutes pass she can feel herself unwinding, relaxing—her walls are coming down fast. They talk about everything and nothing—their shared favorites of music and food and their different tastes of literature and film. There is a balance between them, a level of respect she has been yearning for. A pang of guilt rises in her heart when she wonders if she ever could’ve felt this way with Nate—he was taken from her before she could find out.

“Do you live around here?” Madelyn asks a brave question. She doesn’t mean to insinuate anything—as drawn to Danse as she is, she doesn’t want to rush into _anything_. “In Boston.”

Danse’s surprise melts away and he skews his lips to the side in a small frown. “I—no. I don’t actually live in Boston.”

Madelyn falters and struggles to hide her disappointment. Danse sighs and continues. “I’m only stationed here until my platoon ships out.”

“And…” Madelyn swallows hard and hates the way her heart begins to race in anticipation for the next question she has for him. “When _do_ you ship out?”

His frown grows deeper and there is regret in his eyes. Madelyn suddenly wishes she never asked. She should’ve known that meeting him was too good to be true. She can feel her walls start to reform brick-by-brick as he answers.

“This party was our send-off. We leave…tomorrow.” Danse’s voice is quiet now and Madelyn will give anything to bring back the joy and laughter they were sharing only moments before. “A whole year in the freezing snow of Alaska.”

Madelyn doesn’t know what to say. She wanted to be able to see him again—tomorrow, the next day and every day. She buries that wish away deep within her heart. Danse covers her hand with his own, fingers squeezing hers in encouragement. It is fleeting but Madelyn is already memorizing the feel of them against her skin for when he is gone.

“I’m sorry.” It is all Madelyn can say. “When do you need to report in?”

Danse takes a quick glance at his watch and smirks and it unsettles Madelyn until he shrugs. “Technically if I don’t make it back within the hour I’ll be AWOL.”

Madelyn is only slightly amused by his willingness to risk such punishment from the military just for a milkshake and _her_. He grips her hand again before taking the lead to stand, placing some cash on the table to cover the cost of their ‘meal’. Danse helps her with her coat and Madelyn closes her eyes when his fingers linger along her shoulder, one hand brushing her hair out of the way. The familiarity between them is immediate and borders on an intimacy she shouldn’t be sharing with him. Yet when Danse takes her hand again she laces their fingers together and follows him out of the diner into the crisp night air.

They walk in silence, hand-in-hand back towards the direction of the Old South building where a row of taxis are waiting to take guests home for the evening. Madelyn knows she should return upstairs to her friends but her bravery for the night is wearing thin. Danse stops them on the corner, far away from the loud crowd of people gathered on the building’s steps. He motions to one of the taxi drivers to wait for him as he turns towards Madelyn.

“Your friends are waiting for you, right?” Danse speaks and the sincerity in his voice has Madelyn’s heart racing. “I wish I could escort you home.”  

It is difficult to keep her eyes locked on his as her nerves rush to the surface but she focuses, taking in the soft warmth and caramel color. She wonders if she’ll ever see them— _him_ —again. His hand tightens around hers and his fingers are warm, and she never wants to get over the delightfully _new_ way it feels. Instinctively she steps closer and must tilt her chin up in order to maintain eye contact.

“I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble just because of me.” Madelyn smiles, though she can feel herself trembling. “Just because of some gal.”

“You are not _some gal_.” Danse replies and his lips twitch up in a tiny smirk. “Any trouble would be worth it.”

Danse brushes his thumb over her knuckles and Madelyn knows they cannot delay their goodbyes any longer. Their meeting isn’t a normal one so it is only reasonable that whatever it is that they are cannot continue beyond tonight. The world hasn’t been fair to Madelyn but she thinks she must be thankful for at least _this_ much. It will give her hope for the future, if she is brave enough to try again.

“Madelyn?” Danse is looking at her intently and she can tell her worries have surfaced.

When she feels the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes she is unable to hold back and flings her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into the fabric of his coat. His arms tighten around her, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rests on her lower back, keeping her pressed against him.

“I’m glad to have met you, _Madelyn_.” Danse’s breath swirls around her ear, tempting her to ask him to stay and damn the consequences. She’s never felt so reckless and _desperate_ in her life and needs to know why this is happening to her, why her emotions are spiraling out of control. “We will see each other again.”

Madelyn pulls her head away from his shoulder to look at him, wanting to believe him and the sincere tone he’s held all night. Regardless of her doubts and insecurities she has to believe that he feels the same way about her, as crazy as it may seem. She pulls away from him but stays close and rests her hands on the collar of his coat.

“Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Madelyn whispers. He is leaving, going to the same war that took Nate from her all those months ago. She knows all too well the risk of attachment when in all likelihood he’ll end up just like her dead husband. It is a somber thought, but reality is easier to swallow than wishful thinking.

Danse moves his hand to tuck loose strands of her hair behind her ear before resting his palm against her cheek. “I wouldn’t.” He offers a small, sad smile. Madelyn returns it as best as she can. “Not when you owe me a dance.”

“You can hold it against me.” Madelyn tilts her head against his hand and tries her best to be optimistic like he is. “Rain-check—for when you get back.”

Danse dips his head down but hesitates as Madelyn turns her head away. She doesn’t want to kiss him if this will be the last time she sees him, doesn’t want to kiss him if it isn’t. She already can barely handle the memory of their kiss on the balcony at midnight and how it will haunt her for days, weeks— _months_ to come. He leans down again and Madelyn closes her eyes as his lips brush faintly against her cheek before he pulls away from her completely.

Neither of them dares to say goodbye—not the actual word—and Danse finally moves to open the backdoor of the taxi for himself. It is now or never and Madelyn must steel herself to prevent her hand from reaching out to pull him back.

“Save a dance for me next year?” Danse asks

“I wouldn’t dream of dancing with anybody else.” Madelyn answers.

Danse is smiling but there is sadness in his eyes as the driver pulls away from the curb and Madelyn is tempted to run along the sidewalk in her heels until she can no longer chase the car. Instead she stands there on the edge, her eyes glued to the back window where she can see Danse looking back at her, one hand raised in a silent farewell. She lifts her own and does not move until the taxi has rounded the street corner and she is left alone.

Just like that, he is gone.  


	2. Easy Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Callie (Curtis) belongs to @commander-cullywully.

_“I don’t understand why you have to leave,” Madelyn follows Nate through the house as he gathers the last of his belongings. A duffle bag is already waiting by the front door._

_“It’s my duty to fight for this country,” Nate doesn’t stop to look at her as he uses the same excuse he used the year before and the first time he left to join the Army. That was before the Chinese invaded Alaska, before war had come to the US. His words are meaningless—she’s heard them far too many times to believe him now. “They need me—”_

_“_ **_I_ ** _need you,” Madelyn interrupts and Nate finally looks at her from the doorway of their bedroom. “I thought you retired—I thought you would be home for good.”_

_“One more tour and then—”_

_Madelyn shakes her head, barely able to contain her emotions._  

_“That’s what you said_ **_last_ ** _time,” she steadies her breathing but the tears are already stinging the corners of her eyes. “What happened to building our future? What happened to building our family?”_

_Nate frowns and his eyes dip to where Madelyn is resting a hand over her stomach. They’ve been trying and she can’t help but wonder if he is leaving because the result he wants hasn’t taken root. She braces herself as Nate slowly crosses over to where she is standing next to the bed and closes her eyes when his arms surround her in a tight embrace. He kisses her forehead and moves one hand to tilt her chin up so their eyes can meet._

_“We can still have that Maddie,” Nate’s thumb brushes along the line of her jaw as he cups her cheek. “When the war is over—I promise.”_

_Madelyn balls her hands into fists against his chest before pushing him away. “No. No more promises,” she breathes. There is no holding back her tears now. “If you leave, I can’t guarantee I’ll be here when you get back.”_

_She can tell that Nate doesn’t believe her and tries and console her once more. Madelyn steps away, pushing back his hands from her body. Only then does Nate realize that she isn’t throwing hollow threats—she’s been against his service all throughout their relationship, from when they first met to when they were married. Madelyn is surprised she has lasted so long without breaking down and giving him this sort of ultimatum. She only wishes she had been this brave earlier and not when he is one foot out the door._

_“You don’t mean that,” Nate is in denial, as always. Madelyn can’t understand why she fell in love with this stubborn man but she_ **_does_ ** _love Nate and doesn’t want him to leave. “Maddie, I’m so sorry.”_

_It is too late to stop him and regardless of what she says he will leave and she will be alone—again. Her heart grows heavy when he looks at her with sympathy, dark green eyes scanning over her face. She wants to believe him but so far his actions have spoken louder than any words and any promise he has ever made. Madelyn does fight him when he moves close to her once more his hands framing her face as he presses a desperate kiss to her lips._

_“Please,” Nate whispers against her mouth. When Madelyn looks at him she sees tears forming in his eyes. She hasn’t seen him cry since their wedding day and briefly she is taken back to when their life was easier, when they were just two foolish teenagers in love. “Please, Maddie.”_

_“Please wait for me,” Nate kisses her again. “Promise me you will be here when I come home. Promise me.”_

_She says nothing in return—Madelyn won’t make a promise she isn’t sure she can keep. The guilt pulls at her heart as Nate slowly pulls away, his fingers lingering against her cheek until he forces himself to turn around. He picks up his coat from the bed and begins to walk away but stops in the doorway. Madelyn has never seen him so defeated and his expression is filled with regret as he takes one last look at her._

_“I love you,” His voice is soft but Madelyn can hear the words as clear as the first time he ever spoke them to her. “Madelyn, I love you.”_

_The words are stuck on her tongue—she wants to tell him but the entire situation has made her numb. She can only look at him, hoping that the look in her eyes would say everything she couldn’t. Nate doesn’t linger for very long and when it is clear Madelyn isn’t going to speak, he leaves. Tears are flowing down Madelyn’s cheeks as she listens to his footsteps echo through their home. The front door opens and when it closes a split second later, Madelyn falls to her knees as if the weight of the world has come crashing down around her._

  _Just like that, he is gone._  

* * *

 

**February 2068**

“Mrs. James?”

The voice pulls Madelyn from her trance—she blinks several times, lifting her gaze from her hands in her lap to the group of people looking at her expectantly. Embarrassment settles in when she realizes she has zoned out during the meeting. This isn’t the first time she’s fallen into a trance while other widows and family members drone on about their lost loved ones. Madelyn knows this support group is supposed to help her get over Nate’s death but so far each meeting has left her feeling just as empty as when he left.

“Mrs. James,” the group leader repeats and Madelyn doesn’t bother to correct her. She hasn’t used Nate’s surname in months. “Would you like to share with the group?”

Madelyn swallows hard and feels the pressure to do so as the group looks on. Their gazes are filled with sympathy and sadness—something she is sick of seeing when people look at her. Since she started coming to these meetings she has yet to share her story of loss. Compared to the others, she feels selfish and guilty for what was to be the last interaction with her husband. She twists the golden wedding band on her finger nervously.

“Not today. I’m sorry.”

There is a flash of disappointment in the group leader’s expression but she doesn’t push and Madelyn falls back into her daze as another person speaks. She distracts herself and thinks about how much paperwork there is to do at the office: the case files Nick wants legal counsel on grows everyday. Ever since the New Year Madelyn’s work ethic has declined with her mood. It is easy to blame it on the upcoming anniversary of Nate’s death, but the truth is that she can’t stop thinking about her encounter with the military man, Lieutenant Danse. The more time that separates her from that night, the more it doesn’t seem real and the harder it is to believe that anything could come of it. Another lost chance—Madelyn knows it is easier to think that she will be alone and must learn to deal with that burden.

The meeting concludes just as Madelyn’s patience begins to wear thin. She forces a polite smile to her lips as others say their goodbyes and offer condolences when they know so little about her. She is pulling on her coat when she feels somebody looming behind her and hopes she won’t be dragged into another conversation with the group leader about how she needs to _open up._ Madelyn is already forming excuses of getting back to the office despite how late it is when hands join hers in a familiar way, helping her tug her coat into place.

“So, _Mrs. James_ ,” Madelyn spins around at the familiar voice and is shocked to find Deacon beaming at her. His smug grin morphs her alarm into annoyance and she bats his hands away as he plays with the lapels of her coat. “I thought _I_ was the liar in this deadly duo.”

Madelyn purses her lips together and tries to snatch his sunglasses off but when he moves away she pushes his wig off center. Deacon doesn’t seem to notice, but his ridiculous look makes Madelyn pause to hold back her amusement. Regardless of how much she’s gotten to know the strange man over the year, she is not used to his insistence on wearing disguises.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. Deacon knows about her past but that doesn’t mean she wants him, or any of her friends, to know about how much she struggles to cope with those demons. “I don’t pay you to spy on me.”

“ _You_ don’t,” he softly chuckles when Madelyn furrows her brows. The meeting place is nearly empty save for a few lingering people and she doesn’t need any of them to overhear their conversation.

“Who set you up to this?” Madelyn buttons up her coat and means to take the conversation outside. “Piper? Nick?”

“Valentine wouldn’t violate your privacy like that,” Deacon replies. “Piper… _maybe_.”

His lack of an explanation leads Madelyn to believe he followed her on his own accord. When she moves to step away, he stops her and leads them both towards one of the people still in the room. She recognizes the man, but doesn’t recall his name—he’s spoken briefly about the loss of his wife but is otherwise just as reserved as she is.

“Imagine how surprised I was to learn that you aren’t the person I know that attends these meetings,” Deacon explains. “An old… _contact_ of mine was asking around for some legal advice and, well, _you’re_ a lawyer—”

“I thought I was your only friend, Deacon,” Madelyn teases and he shrugs.

“I _lied_ ,” he flashes a sly grin. “I promised to introduce you to each other.”

“Since when do you make promises?”

“Only pinky promises.”  

Madelyn takes a closer look at the man Deacon wants her to meet as they approach—he’s got a thin build and her heels make them the same height. She wonders what kind of work he does that leaves his hands so dirty; most of the industrial jobs in the city are closed until the war is over… _if_ it ever ends. He seems to be sizing her up as well, an eyebrow arching up as he eyes her up and down. His worried expression lingers as he flicks his gaze to Deacon.

“Robert, this is my dearest, loveliest friend,” Deacon lays it on thick and Madelyn shoots him a warning glance when he waves his hand across her like she’s some prize on a game show. “ _Charmer_ —but you don’t get to call her that.”

“Madelyn Hardy,” she introduces herself, offering a hand to the other man. He takes it, slim fingers holding hers in a lose handshake. “Robert?”

“MacCready is fine,” he corrects with a shake of his head at Deacon. “Look lady, you aren’t some nut job _preacher of the Atom_ , are you?”

“Excuse me?” Madelyn shoots a bewildered look at the two men and Deacon only laughs.

“You aren’t going to let me live that down, are you?” Deacon pats MacCready on the back and Madelyn rolls her eyes. “It was a good joke!”

MacCready sighs, ignoring Deacon. He looks at Madelyn and there is a flash of sympathy and hopelessness in his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry Deacon dragged you into this,” he shakes his head. “I’m not looking for a preacher, or a friend. I’m looking for a lawyer.”

“What do you need a lawyer for?” Madelyn asks before backtracking. “I _am_ a lawyer.”

“Then maybe we can talk,” MacCready replies and expression shifts into one of frustration. “The typical problem—a couple of morons looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on the way up.”

“Shouldn’t be surprised though,” MacCready continues, “that’s how it goes when you run with the Gunners.”

The Gunners. Madelyn has heard about the ex-military gang operating out of Quincy but the information is limited. She wonders what kind of trouble MacCready has in relation to them. He looks like he can handle himself but Madelyn knows looks can be deceiving.

“You’re acting like I’m supposed to know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t.”

“Then…” Madelyn reminds herself to stay patient. Many of her clients come to her with the same attitude—untrusting and yet desperate for help. She could do without the hostility, however. “How can I help you?”

“Protection. You watch my back, I’ll watch yours,” Madelyn would be lying if she said she understood what he was getting at. That wasn’t what _lawyers_ were for. “I’m taking a big risk being out here in the Commonwealth.”

Deacon frowns, knowing the dig is directed at him. Madelyn nods but MacCready doesn’t seem convinced. “How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

“Are you always this suspicious?” Madelyn can’t help but think about when she first met Deacon—even _he_ wasn’t this weary of her. “What kind of risk are you talking about?”

“Already told you way to much. I need to learn to keep my big mouth shut,” MacCready mumbles. “Back to my original question…can I trust you?”

“Yes,” Madelyn answers with a small smile. She hopes it is enough. Deacon is nodding enthusiastically, but the two continue to ignore him. “You can trust me.”

“Good,” he finally seems relieved. “I don’t owe you any sort of…legal fee, do I?” MacCready’s worry returns. “I can’t give you anymore than 200. No room for bargaining.”

“Everything is negotiable,” Madelyn wonders just how much trouble Callie and Nick are going to give her for what she’s about to do. “I usually ask for 250 but I’ll help you… _pro-bono_.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” MacCready smirks. “Can’t argue with _that_.”

Madelyn digs through her bag and offers him an old agency card. It’s got Valentines’ name and heart logo and is before she joined up with his practice but it will do. “Call me tomorrow at this number and we’ll get to work.”

MacCready flashes a crooked but endearing smile. “Sounds good… _boss_.”

* * *

 

When Deacon insists on walking Madelyn home she doesn’t argue and gives up on asking him for any more details about MacCready. Her spy—informant—whatever Deacon wants to call himself is good at his job and won’t jeopardize information unless it is absolutely necessary. If they weren’t such good friends, she would’ve left him in the Boston Commons months ago.

“I’ll let you in on the next secret project of mine,” Deacon suddenly offers, linking their arms together as they continue to walk down the dimly lit Cambridge sidewalks. “I’m turning _matchmaker_.”

“Deacon, we’ve been over this before,” Madelyn is already defensive. “No more blind dates—”

“Not for _you_ ,” he interrupts. “I think I learned my lesson when I tried to hook you up with Drummer Boy.”

Madelyn shakes her head at the thought but softly chuckles. Deacon is persistent and it’s a good quality but sometimes his enthusiasm is hard to swallow. She raises a curious eyebrow and asks, “who is the unlucky receiver of your infinite wisdom?”

Deacon notes her sarcasm but ignores it. “Whisper. I think I know the _perfect_ guy for her.”

For a moment Madelyn isn’t sure who Whisper is or what he’s talking about—there are so many nicknames and codenames for her to keep track of when she talks to him. When she finally connects the dots she feels sorry for her junior partner.

“Tinker Tom is a little too _jumpy_ for Callie, don’t you think?” she jokes. “You know she’s just as stubborn as me, right? There’s no way whatever you’re planning is going to work.”

Deacon shrugs but doesn’t seem bothered. “We’re _all_ stubborn,” his eyebrows pop up from behind his sunglasses. Madelyn wonders how he can even see where they are going as the sunsets behind the tall buildings. “Plus, I have some help from a mutual friend.”

Madelyn looks at him questionably. “Be careful Deacon, please.”

His expression is momentarily serious as he nods before he tugs her closer. “And since you mentioned it,” he chuckles and Madelyn groans, knowing where he is going with the conversation. “Have you landed any big dates?

“No,” she responds flatly. “I don’t

“How does that song go?” Deacon whistles a small tune. “ _Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive_?” he hums. “ _Ee-lim-inate the negative_.”

“Please don’t sing,” Madelyn stops him. He’ll never stop once he gets going. “I don’t have much to be positive about these days.”

“Hey _I_ can lie— _you_ can’t,” Deacon finally pulls off his glasses as they enter her apartment building. The elevator is out, again, and he continues to escort her up the flight of stairs. “ _Somebody_ mentioned you got _pre_ -ty lucky on New Years.”

Madelyn purses her lips together in annoyance. “Piper?”

Deacon waves his hands defensively. “I’m not accusing anybody…but yes it was totally Piper.”

“Of course,” Madelyn grumbles. “I didn’t _get lucky_. I only…met somebody.”

“Ooh, _somebody_ ,” he is excited and it is exactly why Madelyn hadn’t told anybody else about her encounter a month ago. “Let me guess? Big, tall and scruffy? I _know_ your type.”

She tries to hide her disbelief on how dead-on he is. No doubt Piper gave him that information. Madelyn can feel her cheeks heating up and she breaks away from Deacon to fumble with the lock of her apartment door—she doesn’t need her neighbors to hear his teasing.

“I don’t have a _type_ ,” she argues as the door opens. Dogmeat is already rushing towards the door, eager to greet her. “I don’t.”

Deacon follows her inside and pats Dogmeat’s head when the shepherd nudges his leg with his nose. “I think you do,” Deacon persists. He drops his voice into what sounds like baby talk as he plays with Dogmeat’s ears. “Isn’t that right, Dogmeat? Doesn’t Charmer have a type?”

Dogmeat tilts his head to the side, and whimpers inquisitively before looking up at Madelyn. She wonders if her dog would follow through on the command to attack Deacon. Instead, Dogmeat trots away leaving the two humans to continue their conversation.

“I worry about you, Madelyn,” the use of her full name makes her focus on Deacon—he isn’t always serious and when he is, it is usually important. “We _all_ do. Just making sure you are happy.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” Madelyn assures him with a small smile. She is grateful that he isn’t pushing for more details about her mysterious encounter. He can talk to Piper if he’s _that_ interested. “Thank you Deacon.”

“I better leave before things get _too_ soft between us,” Deacon suggests. “Or do you want me to stay? Keep you company?”

“The couch is a lot harder than it looks.”

“Who said anything about sleeping on the couch?” Deacon teases in a suggestive tone. He grins when Madelyn is unable to hide her amusement at his flirtatious words. They are harmless, she knows—Deacon is all words and no action, but he means well and it works for the friendship they have.

“One of these days you’re going to have to follow through on that flirting,” Madelyn finally adjusts the wig he’s wearing back into place with a cheeky smile. “I am immune, but not every person will be able to resist your charms.”

She knows she’s embarrassed him by the way he slides his sunglasses back on and settles into his default smug expression. Deacon follows her as she escorts him to the door. “Are you sure you’ll be okay Charmer? Given any thought to activating that Mr. Handy?” he asks.  

“Dogmeat provides all the company I need,” Madelyn snickers at the wounded expression on Deacon’s face.

“Ouch. Swapped out for the dog,” he pouts. “You know _one of these days_ you’re gonna have to start letting people in.”

Madelyn frowns—she’s well aware of the walls she’s built up and how obvious they are to her friends. “I’m working on it.”

Before Deacon leaves he makes sure to wrap her up in a tight hug, a silent but powerful reminder he’s there for her whenever she needs him. He leaves and it is while Madelyn is locking the door and securing the deadbolt that her loneliness starts to settle in. She enjoys the company her friends provide but she knows that in order to survive, she will have to get used to the feeling of being alone. It is easier than it was when she first learned Nate would never be coming home but there are still days and nights when her heart aches.

Dogmeat whines at her feet and Madelyn sighs, not realizing she was trampling over the mail on her doormat in her heels. She scoops it up and her ever-loyal dog follows her as she sits down on her small loveseat. The first batch of letters are all the same—veterans benefits, letters of condolences she thought would have ended long ago. It isn’t until she gets to the last piece of mail that her heart jumps, lodging in her throat as she sees where and who it is from.

“Danse?” she whispers his name, thumb brushing over the ink in the top left corner.

The handwriting is neat and her name is written so carefully that it takes her a moment to remember she never gave him her last name—either of them. Madelyn is in disbelief. The letter is more than unexpected and the shock takes a long time to subside. She was certain their meeting would be just another fleeting moment in her life, a memory she would think fondly about as she struggled to get her life together. _This_ changes everything and shakes the walls around her heart. For the first time in a long time she feels… _hopeful_.

Dogmeat barks and Madelyn shakes herself out of the trance she had fallen in. Anxiety is flowing through her veins as she carefully opens the envelope and removes the folded parchment from within. It is faded, and the first thing she notices is the date— _January 9_ _th_ _, 2068—_ he wasted no time in trying to reach her. She is instantly thrown back to the night when they met and his promise that they would see each other again. Madelyn contains her emotions as she reads, but she can’t deny the fluttering warmth radiating in her chest. She is happy.

_Madelyn,_

_You said you were a lawyer, so I looked up every lawyer named Madelyn in the Boston area until I found you. Forgive me for my boldness and the informality of my letter and the behavior I exude for contacting you in this manner. My only wish was to find an answer to a question that has been tearing at my thoughts—keeping me awake at night and unfocused in the trenches._

_Our meeting was unconventional and I admit I acted like an overzealous fool but I have been unable to forget, not for a moment even a fragment of that night—your dress, our kiss and the ease of our conversation. The look in your eyes when I had to walk away, it pained me to think you did not believe me when I said, when I promised that we would see each other again._

_I don’t know what it is—a crossed wire in my brain or—I can’t deny what I felt that night and what I continue to feel for you. I’ve never felt closer to anyone else I’ve ever met. My question and only thought is this: do you—could you—feel the same way?_

_-Danse_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by @commander-cullywully ‘s one-shot she wrote for me as part of her giveaway. You can read it on her tumblr page. This literally picks up right after the events of that story so you may be confused if you don’t read it. This isn’t going to be a traditional chapter-fic (as in there isn't a real/strong plot driving the story) but it will be a slow-burn in a sense that it’ll have multiple parts that are in somewhat chronological order pertaining to the story I want to tell.


	3. All Shook Up

Nick’s desk is covered in case files. Some of them are solved but the majority of them are not. With the country so focused on the war, _Valentine’s Detective Agency_ is notorious for being the shining beacon of hope in an otherwise dark world. Nick proves himself by helping the community the best he can with the limited resources he has, and has done so for the last few years.

“Everybody deserves their fair chance,” Nick says.

Regardless of how difficult it can be at some times, he never gives up. Madelyn finds it admirable, part of the reason why she agreed to work with him when she met him years ago. He is her dearest friend and most trusted confidant (despite what Deacon says or thinks). Yet, as she sits in the chair in front of his desk she finds it difficult to find the words she wants to say.

Madelyn wants to tell him about the letter from Danse, tell him it is the _same_ Danse whom she met on New Years Eve. She needs advice—she isn’t sure what kind of opinions Nick can offer but anything is better than the blind optimism Piper and Deacon give. This is a matter of the heart and while Nick is now more machine than man, he constantly proves to have more humanity than most people she knows.

She is only half-listening as Nick talks about a new case—some poor soul who went missing around Fenway Park. Even though Madelyn is first and foremost trained as a _lawyer_ , Nick has her play detective with him on more than one occasion. She idly flicks through the file but cannot seem to focus no matter how hard she tries.

“We should talk to Vadim at the Dugout—from what I can see Earl was a regular there,” Valentine suggests but Madelyn only catches a little of what he is saying. “Do you feel the same way?”

Madelyn blinks, bringing her mind back to the present moment when he speaks. “What?”

Nick’s expression shifts from its usual neutrality to concern. It is hard to read his face sometimes but Madelyn has known him long enough to see past the synthetic parts. He is worried about her. Whatever he was talking about before is forgotten as he stretches his arm over the desk to place one hand over hers. Madelyn flinches at the cold touch of his metallic hand and he mumbles an apology but does not pull away— _that_ is something about him she is still getting used to.

“You aren’t wearing your wedding ring,” Nick mentions, his thumb brushing over where it should be on her third finger. “Everything okay sweetheart?”

“I must have forgotten to put it on this morning,” Madelyn replies with a frown. The whole morning is a blur—the last thing she can remember, the only thing she can think about is the letter burning a hole in her dress pocket. “I’m…distracted.”

“She’s been distracted by _something_ for a while now,” Deacon’s voice echoes from the doorway. He moves to sit in the chair next to her but not before snatching up Nick’s coffee cup from the desk. He takes a sip but shakes his head with a disgusted expression, mumbling something about the horrible taste of decaf. “Charmer won’t admit it, but I think she’s _in love_.”

“Excuse me?” Madelyn snaps her head to glare at him. She hates how her heartbeat instantly picks up at his suggestion. Deacon _is_ one to pull something from nothing but _this_ is different. She hasn’t told anybody about the letter and there is no logical reason that explains how he’d know. It isn’t after a long train of thought that she realizes she hasn’t denied what he has said. “I—I am _not_.”

Deacon smirks, “the silence says it all, don’t you think?”

Madelyn wants to argue but is afraid that the more she talks, the more she’ll inadvertently reveal. She opts to ignore Deacon’s silent prodding and focuses on the case file once more. He smirks and her face flushes with heat.

“Dugout Inn, you say?” she flashes an annoyed look to her right where he is sitting. “Maybe we should send Deacon, and hope the Swan gets him.”

“Doesn’t he stalk the Commons?” Deacon corrects but still pouts. “You’d really throw me to the curb and hope a serial killer gets me?”

“ _Children_!” Nick shouts, interrupting them both. “Calm down. The wires in my brain are on the fritz enough without you two arguing!”

“Did she tell you about meeting somebody on New Years Eve?” Deacon isn’t willing to give up so quickly. He thrives on pushing Madelyn to the edge until she is forced to divulge the inner workings of her private life. “Piper says he was—and I quote— _delicious_.”

Madelyn thinks if it is too late to suggest he be relocated to Salem—she hears they are having a peculiar wildlife problem. If Nick is even remotely interested in Deacon’s gossip, he doesn’t show it. Instead he leans back in his chair with the same impartial expression he had before Deacon walked in. Madelyn continues to stay silent as to not give him any more fodder.

“What’s the harm in taking a chance?” he asks. If being stubborn is a superpower, Deacon has it. “From what ol’ Valentine tells me you used to be all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows,” Deacon winks at Nick when he grimaces at being called _old_. “I don’t call you _Charmer_ for irony’s sake.”

“That was before…” Madelyn trails off, glancing down at her hand and fiddling with her already chipped nail polish. A heavy feeling settles in her heart. She doesn’t mean to guilt trip either of them but the words are already forming on her tongue. “When Nate was alive.”

“For once Deacon I think you should shift your interest elsewhere,” Nick suggests after a long silence. Deacon opens his mouth to argue but Nick raises his hand, stopping him. “Or else I _will_ send you to Boston Common on Swan detail.”

Deacon mulls over the detective’s threat, “a tempting offer.” He taps his chin with his index finger. “You win. I’ll leave Charmer alone…for now.”

Nick’s office door opens again and he flashes a look of annoyance but quickly forms a smile instead. Madelyn turns to see her fellow law partner—Callie Curtis—walking in. Her arrival means that the office is _officially_ open and that if they are to receive any clients, they will be here soon.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Deacon beams at Callie with a low whistle. He tilts his head and angles his sunglasses down to take a better glance at her walking over to where they are sitting. “You’re looking—”

“ _Deacon_ ,” Nick warns even as Callie laughs at the flirtatious compliments. “What did we just talk about?”

“You didn’t say anything about leaving Whisper alone,” Deacon argues with a smug expression. “I was only complimenting her on her sunny disposition.”  

Madelyn notices it as well—Callie is smiling and there’s a slight spring in her step. It is a small smile, almost like she is hiding a secret. It wouldn’t be unusual if it weren’t for the fact that for the last few months Callie has been in the same emotional funk. Their backgrounds are similar: widowed wives whose husbands died around the same time, serving in the same warzone. She is grateful for her friendship, to have somebody who genuinely understands what she is going through on a daily basis. They originally met at a support group but it was Nick that formally introduced them when Madelyn came to work for him.

It’s comforting to see her friend put effort into her appearance—a tailored wrap dress that matches the dark red of her lipstick. Even her hair is curled, styled in a way Madelyn can only dream of replicating. She wants to know what prompted the change, but knows better to ask in front of Deacon. Regardless of the reason, Madelyn is happy for her. Perhaps there is hope for _her_ well being as well.

“Don’t mind me,” Callie smiles at Deacon and Madelyn as she places another stack of files and letters on Nick’s desk. “Just delivering the mail and coffee.”

“You know you aren’t my secretary anymore, right?” Nick softly laughs as he shuffles through her delivery, looking for anything interesting. “You don’t have to bring me coffee. I’m a big man— _synth_ —detective.”

Madelyn takes the coffee cup from Callie when she realizes Nick already has one on his desk. They find humor in Nick’s confusion—not everybody has grown accustomed to his new appearance but those who know him best can attest that he’s still the same Valentine.

“About that,” Callie hands over one last piece of mail with a small frown. “Looks like we know why we’ve seen a dip in clients.”

Nick reads over the paper and it isn’t difficult to see his mood has dropped. “I get a few synthetic upgrades and suddenly I’m public enemy number one.”

He hands the letter to Madelyn and she knits her eyebrows together in frustration. It is a letter from the Mayor, expressing his disappointment over Nick’s _upgrades_. The township is divided on the matter but so far nobody has tried to shut them down.  

“You’d think more people would be appreciative that we tried to take Eddie Winter off the streets,” Madelyn grumbles.

“ _Tried_ ,” Callie shrugs. “I think people would be able to look over Nick’s robotic hand and…most of his face if you actually captured the jackass.”

“That’s a mild name for a crime lord who—” Nick stops himself short. They all know what personal vendetta he has against Eddie Winter and why regardless of the amount of cases they have, it is a number one priority. Madelyn can’t blame him. He forces a smile, rubbing his good hand along his jaw. “Is there a problem with this mug of mine?”

“Hell Nick, you were always ugly,” Deacon jokes, earning more laughter from Madelyn and Callie.

“You should tell people you’re rigged to explode,” Callie adds just as there is a knock on Nick’s already open office door. “Then start beeping until they…” Madelyn raises her eyebrows up in concern as Callie’s expression instantly drops, her eyes wide at trained on the doorway. Her voice drops to a meek whisper, “ _shit_.” 

“Their pants?”

Madelyn smacks Deacon in the arm and turns in her chair to see what has Callie so rattled and is surprised to see MacCready. She didn’t expect to see him visit so soon. His expression is a mix of confusion and shock as he looks at Callie. He shifts awkwardly on his feet and his hands twitch until he shoves them in the pockets of his jeans.

“What is with all the foot traffic this morning?” Nick muses, breaking the silence. Callie sharply turns away from the door, a bright blush creeping up her neck and fanning over her cheeks. She struggles to hide her discomfort as she braces herself against Nick’s desk.

“This the right place?” MacCready mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Callie and focusing them on Madelyn as he takes a few hesitant steps into the office. She stands to greet him.

“Good to see you again MacCready,” Madelyn starts slowly, offering her hand. MacCready fumbles to reciprocate and their handshake is just as awkward as the first time they met. He can’t stop flicking his gaze to where Callie is standing, the thick tension in the air refusing to settle.  Madelyn hesitates, “do you two…know each other?”

“Something like that,” MacCready doesn’t answer right away but when he does, his soft melancholy tone reveals there is more to the story.

“You don’t need anything, right Nick?” Callie rushes to pick up the files she has just delivered, holding them tight to her chest as she moves towards the door, avoiding eye contact with everybody in the room. She nearly trips over her heels as she maneuvers around them. “I’m just going to… _go_.”

Madelyn isn’t sure what to think and shares a questionable glance with MacCready before looking back to Nick who is just as perplexed. Unsurprisingly, Deacon looks _excited_.

“Well _that_ wasn’t suspicious,” he is grinning ear-to-ear and already moving to follow after Callie. “I’m going to… _investigate_.”

Deacon is already through the doorway when Nick shouts after him, “don’t forget to do some _actual_ investigating at Vadim’s or I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Deacon yells from the hallway. “You’ll throw me off Mass Fusion’s roof.”

Madelyn shakes her head in disbelief, motioning for MacCready to take a seat while she closes the office door. She can sense that he is still uncomfortable but can’t tell if it is because of being there, Callie or a combination of the two. He is looking at Nick with confusion when Madelyn returns to her seat but flashes her a warning glance.

“I’m not going to ask,” Madelyn assures. She can save all her questions for Callie when they next see each other. “That’s not why you’re here.”

“Right,” MacCready replies shortly. “Who’s the uh…robot?”

Madelyn waves her hand, “this is Detective Nick Valentine. Runs this establishment. As promised, we can help you with whatever problems you’re having.”

“So, this is the sort you’re taking up with now?” thankfully Nick doesn’t seem _too_ offended by MacCready’s trepidation. “What can we do for you?”

“I told you about the Gunners,” MacCready adjusts himself in his seat, opting to look at Madelyn instead of Nick. “There’s these two fu— _guys_ —that won’t stop breathing down my neck. Following me around, threatening me.”

Madelyn recalls MacCready’s wish for protection. It is obvious that he wouldn’t be asking for help if he couldn’t handle the situation himself. She wonders just how long he’s gone ignoring this problem and just _how_ he got into the mess in the first place.

“A cease and desist order,” Madelyn suggests. “Simple enough.”

“Nothing is just _simple_ when it comes to the Gunners,” MacCready argues. “You can’t just tell them what to do. Asking nicely will get you a one-way ticket to an early grave.”

Nick leans back in his chair and sighs, “I agree. Short of _killing_ them, there isn’t much you can do when the Gunners have you on their shit list.”

“You don’t have to tell _me_ that,” MacCready mutters, shaking his head. “Winlock and Barnes—heck— _any_ Gunner won’t hesitate to shoot you on sight and that’s before you tell them why you’re there.”

Madelyn contemplates his warning and shares a knowing look with Nick. He is a detective but doesn’t always work within the law. That’s why he hired Madelyn in the first place, to keep him out of trouble with the higher ups. She’s done all she can to keep him from rotting in a jail cell (or being donated to CIT _for science_ ), especially after what happened with Eddie Winter, but she isn’t sure she can help if Nick decides to take justice into his own hands. There’s only so much people are willing to ignore, even with a war going on.

“Is this why you offered to _watch my back_?” she asks MacCready. He nods and for the first time she can see the worry behind his uncaring façade. This must go farther for him than he is willing to admit.

“I’m bringing you into this mess by asking for help,” he explains. “I’ve learned my lesson from all those years of running with them but I also know what they are capable of. I can make sure nothing bad happens to you,” he glances at Nick. “Or him. Or…anybody else who works with you.”

 _Callie_ —Madelyn thinks but brushes the thought aside. She can’t help but ask, “just how old are you, MacCready?”

“Twenty-two,” he answers like it should be obvious he’s _that_ young. Nick sputters as he sips his coffee and has to clear his throat but his reaction already has MacCready frowning. “Yeah, yeah. I know I don’t look it.”

“I think we have a _lot_ to talk about,” Nick suggests. He pulls out a half-emptied bottle of whiskey and two glasses from his desk drawer and begins pouring.

“I’d kill for a drink,” MacCready leans to take the glass from Nick and the two clink their glasses before drinking. “Come to think of it—I have!”

When Nick offers his glass to Madelyn she gladly takes it, ignoring the strong burn from the amber liquid as it trickles down her throat. Even though she had come to see Nick for an entirely different reason that morning, this new distraction doesn’t bother her. It will be good to _forget_ —if only for a little while.

* * *

 

The bottle of whiskey is empty by the time the three are done talking and while Nick is seemingly unaffected, Madelyn can feel the buzz of intoxication as she stumbles into her own office hours later. There is a cup of day old coffee on her desk that she thinks about throwing out for one second before chugging it down with a wince. She needs to sober up if she plans on getting any work done.

The plan is to mix a little bit of legal bureaucracy, blackmail and _gentle_ persuasion together in an effort to help MacCready. It took some convincing but by the time Nick mentioned being a great shot with his .44, the ex-mercenary was on board. All it took was a bottle of aged whisky for the two to bond. Madelyn is still hesitant but knows she is good at her job and so is Nick—together they can fix _any_ problem and solve _any_ crime.

Madelyn continues to sip the cold coffee as she compiles all the documents and legal forms she will need. When silence settles across the room, it isn’t long before she gets lost in her thoughts. At first she thinks about Callie and the obvious connection her friend has with MacCready. It doesn’t make sense that they would know each other besides meeting at the support group but Callie hasn’t gone with Madelyn in a long time. Certainly not since MacCready started attending.

Instead of dwelling on it, she shifts her attention to what had been pulling her focus all morning. The letter is crinkled now within Madelyn’s pocket and she feels a twinge of guilt for not taking better care of it when she pulls it out to take another look. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s read it since the previous night—the words still make her heart race. It is as if the world is slowing down around her.

_Do you—could you—feel the same way?_

“Knock, knock!”

Madelyn quickly flips the letter over onto her desk, shuffling the paperwork around to hide it as Piper walks in. She doesn’t need to give her friend an excuse to ask about New Years… _again_. Piper is her usual chipper self, a grin on her lips as she steps up to Madelyn’s desk.

“Hey Blue,” she greets before pulling out a newspaper from her bag. “Just here to deliver the latest issue.”

 _Publick Occurrences: February 2068_ — _Winter vs. Valentine: A Detective’s Hunt for Cold Justice_

“Gives a new meaning to Valentine’s Day,” Madelyn shook her head. “Nick’s gonna have a field day with this one.”

“A little light shed on the problem with our police force,” Piper suggests. “It’s about time more people take notice to the killers, kidnappers and gangs on our streets. Nick is doing the work of a dozen police precincts.”

“The threat of nuclear attack tends makes murder look like jaywalking,” Madelyn replies. It’s just another reason why she finds the whole war upsetting. “You aren’t in trouble, are you?”

Piper raises an eyebrow and titters, “you didn’t actually drink that swig Nick keeps in his desk, did you? It turns even the most stoic of men into crybabies.”

“Too bad Deacon left before we poured,” Madelyn closes her eyes tight and shakes her head. She doesn’t feel _drunk_ —she hardly feels anything—but perhaps that is the point. _Numb_ —it sure beats a heavy and broken heart. “Give me some good news.”

“You first,” Piper leans over the desk, pushing aside Madelyn’s hand until she finds the letter. Madelyn doesn’t fight her but can feel her cheeks heating up in embarrassment when Piper’s expression lights up at the sight of it. “I _knew_ it!”

The reporter excitedly reads over the text, little giggles spilling from her mouth. Madelyn can swear she sees Piper bounce in place when she hands it back. She braces herself for the inevitable _told-you-so_ speech and the demand for girl-talk that has been avoided since January.  

“I don’t know what Deacon told you—”

“Deacon didn’t say anything,” Piper interrupts as she digs through her bag again. “I’m a _reporter_ , Blue. I can figure things out on my own ya’ know.”

Piper hands over a somewhat crumpled photo and Madelyn takes in a sharp breath at what she sees. It is from the New Years Eve party and while her first instinct is to be mad at Piper’s snooping ways, it melts away when she realizes it is a _gift_ and nothing more.

“I’m not blackmailing you,” Piper adds, obviously noting Madelyn’s surprise. “I’ve been holding onto that, waiting to give it to you. I figured given the _circumstances_ , you could use the extra push.”

The picture is a little blurry and the angle is strange but it is still very clear to Madelyn what the picture captures. Her and Danse on the balcony of the Old South building, mere moments away from their first—and only—kiss. They are standing close, Danse’s hand on her cheek and the other pulling at his coat draped around her shoulders.

Madelyn closes her eyes and can picture his face clearly, dark eyes gazing into hers as he gradually lowers his lips to her mouth. She remembers it all—the smell of his cologne, the feel of his lips, the stubble of his beard as it brushes against her face, and the warmth of his body when he pulls her closer. She has never been kissed like that before and didn’t lie when she told him she liked it.

“Blue?” Piper pulls her out of the memory. Her voice is comforting—Madelyn doesn’t mean for tears to form in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You haven’t,” Madelyn dabs her fingers to her cheeks to catch the tears that manage to slip out. “This is just…unexpected. Thank you.”

“ _Please_ tell me you’re going to write him back,” Piper doesn’t hide her grin. “You deserve a chance at happiness, Blue.”

It isn’t the first time Madelyn has heard that. Ever since Nate died she has been told that moving on with her life would be something that he wants. She has been in mourning for so long but the pain won’t fade—perhaps it never will. As scared as she is, she doesn’t think it is very fair to herself to live the rest of her life in such sorrow. Her friends certainly share the same sentiment.

“I do,” Madelyn finally answers after much thought. She knows what she needs to do.

* * *

 

_Danse,_

_I’m sorry for taking so long to write back. Your letter came (unsurprisingly) as a shock to me—I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, if not at all. It is not unwanted, however. In fact, a large part of me has been holding out hope that one day something like this would happen. The world has been unfair to me in the past so you will have to forgive my hesitation to believe you when you said we’d see each other again. I’m glad I was wrong._

_I have been reminded, in a way, of just how special our meeting was. Unconventional, yes, but I’m not one to argue with fate. I haven’t forgotten you, either—how can I? When I close my eyes I can place myself on that balcony with you and everything melts away. I want that spark again, whatever happened between us that night._

_My answer to your question is yes._

_-Madelyn_


	4. From Me To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter art by frank-a-lank

_ _

_Madelyn,_

_You don’t know how much it means to me to hear from you._

_I’m sorry that the world hasn’t been as kind as it should to you. I hope you are experiencing happier days—I know I am with the arrival of your letter and response. I want to be bold and say that this happiness carries with me in the field, that I know there is something worth fighting for, somebody worth_ ~~_coming home to_ ~~ _getting back to when the fighting is over._

_My platoon does not frequent the trenches as much as one would think—for that I am lucky. As grim as it sounds, my rank gives me privilege and safety others do not have. Soldiers die everyday—men I consider my brothers—laying down their lives for our country. You mentioned the war is not something you agree with. I wanted to acknowledge that I can sympathize and that I will try my hardest to ensure the same does not happen to me._

_Tell me more about your job as a lawyer—have you gotten any cases yet? And what about your dog, Dogmeat—I’ve never been to a Boston park before but I’m sure your dog loves them. Are you doing anything for fun? I know you mentioned not ‘getting out’ but I hope that has changed. You are far too young and beautiful to stay cooped up all day. I’ve never been fortunate enough to see a moving picture show—maybe you can see one and tell me about it._

_It’s strange—I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t know how to act or what to say when it comes to you and_ **_this_ ** _. Forgive me if I overstepped any boundaries. There is so much I want to know about you, but I am willing to follow whatever pace you set._

_-Danse_

* * *

 

_Danse,_

_New Year, New Madelyn—or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. When we met, I was in the process of rebuilding my life from the ground up. In a sense, I still am, but my days have been easier. Someday soon I’ll tell you about what this war has taken from me. For now, I’d like to focus on what good it has given back—you._

_I went to school to become a lawyer but so far my job is nothing they teach you in Law 101. I work for a man named Nick Valentine—a private eye that primarily works missing persons cases the police are too busy to handle. He hired me before I passed the bar about a year ago. With the war and loss of resources, you can say I’ve seen enough case files to last a lifetime within the last few months. There’s a serial killer, groups of gangs rampaging the city and if that wasn’t enough, unexplained disappearances. Technically, however, we aren’t allowed to work those cases—only consult. Nick likes to break that rule and I’m usually the one that has to save him from getting arrested. Nick says I make a great ‘noir’ detective but in reality it makes me feel like a madwoman with a gun._

_Dogmeat is great company—I don’t like to walk the streets alone, especially at night. But the parks in Boston are lovely and full of history…I hope one day I can show you. It’s been ages since I went to the theatre. There is a new film being advertised in the papers called ‘The Detective’. Frank Sinatra stars in it—I’m sure Nick would love to test the accuracy of what they show compared to our real life work._

_You don’t need to apologize. It has been a long time since I opened myself up to somebody in this kind of way. Even though I should know what I’m doing, the experience has left me feeling like a blushing schoolgirl._

_I want to learn more about you—not the soldier, not the Lieutenant, but just Danse._

_-Madelyn_

* * *

_Madelyn,_

_Believe it or not, most of my life has been spent in the military. In a sense, becoming a soldier is what saved me from a life on the streets. I grew up in D.C.—I never knew my parents. Most of my teenage years were spent selling whatever scraps I could my hands on. When I saved up enough I settled in a small community called Rivet City, just off the Potomac River. The military began recruiting for the war effort around the same time. I joined when I was eighteen along with a close friend of mine named Cutler. I’ll tell you more about him at a later time. As I saw it, it was the best way out of a nowhere life…something to give me purpose. I’ve changed significantly from the scrappy young trader I was in my youth but it isn’t something I can easily explain in a letter—I hope you understand._

_This tour of duty marks my last year before I am eligible for retirement. Even with the draft, it seems I am getting too old to wear this suit of power armor. It is something I never considered before the New Year—before I met you. I was always under the impression that I would serve until I was grey in the hair or when the inevitable enemy bullet found me in the battlefield. There are still several months that separate me from leaving the life I’ve always known. But when that day comes I don’t think there is anything that will stop me from coming home. I am ready to build a new life. If you are willing, I hope you can show me how._

_I was under the impression that lawyers typically sat and pushed paperwork all day—your life and career seem quite eventful to the contrary. I assume you hear this enough from those around you but I mean it when I tell you to stay safe. I cannot wait to see that beautiful smile of yours again._

_-Danse_

* * *

 

Madelyn is almost amused by the awkward way MacCready and Callie are sitting on the other side of her desk. They keep giving each other quick and nervous glances and Madelyn swears she has never seen two people _fidget_ so much in a short amount of time. It is as if she is about to lecture them like schoolchildren being caught doing something they shouldn’t. It doesn’t help that the two of them look guilty as sin, a bright blush on Callie’s cheeks.

She knows that they met briefly when MacCready first came to the office but since then she isn’t sure she’s seen them together. He’s been working as an informant, similar to Deacon’s job with the agency, building up information on the Gunners for her and Nick. Callie works with Piper on missing persons—it stands to show the two wouldn’t have time to interact. That changes today.

Madelyn wastes no time. “You’ll be taking over MacCready’s case—”

“ _What_?” Callie leans forward in her chair with panic written on her face. “No I can’t— _you_ can’t do this to me.”

MacCready crosses his arms over his chest with an offended expression. “What the fu—heck happened to _you_ helping me? Now you throw me _blondie_?” MacCready directs his frustration to Madelyn. “Should’ve known I’d end up screwed.”

“You could say that,” Callie quips and MacCready falters and his cheeks are flush with color. “Is this you or Nick delegating work?”

“Eddie Winter.”

_That_ shuts the two of them up for all but a few seconds before continuing to bicker. Madelyn is disappointed—Callie should know how personally involved Nick is with the Winter case. When there is a promising lead, Nick will drop _everything_ to follow it. Madelyn can only chase after him, making sure he doesn’t do anything reckless…or illegal.

Callie shakes her head. “This isn’t going to work. Give me another case or somebody else—”

“You can work with Deacon then.” Madelyn snaps and eyes the two of them, silently warning them to get their attitudes adjusted. She doesn’t understand the hostility between them but knows that sometimes two people just do not get along. “Use him as a middleman. This isn’t negotiable.”

The two seem to be contemplating her words. After a moment, they both concede with a heavy sigh, MacCready leaning back in his chair. Callie fiddles with the hem of her skirt, avoiding eye contact with Madelyn and MacCready. _Like two grounded children_ , Madelyn thinks.

“Where the hell is Deacon anyways?” she asks. “He’s usually chatting one of us up by now.”

“He’s doing me a favor,” MacCready explains. When Madelyn shoots him a questionable look he continues, “he’s watching my son.”

Madelyn blinks in surprise and flicks her eyes to Callie who seems unfazed by this reveal. She shakes her head in disbelief. Didn’t MacCready say he was only twenty-two? “You have a son?”

“He just turned five,” he nods. “’Nother reason why I wanted help getting away from the Gunners.”

There’s more to his story—Madelyn can sense it but doesn’t push for more information. She almost feels guilty that she is handing off his case to somebody else. She hopes he understands she still cares about what happens to him. Perhaps she can continue to help once the Eddie Winter case is dealt with.

“I’ll go fill Deacon in,” MacCready stands and Madelyn is surprised when Callie shoots up from her seat as well. She looks over at MacCready with a softer expression and nervously extends her hand to him. “Change of heart?” he asks as he takes it for a brief moment. He still seems skeptical of Callie’s intentions.

“Something like that…”

It isn’t until then that Madelyn senses something more than tension between the two and alarms start to go off in her head. She can’t believe she hasn’t picked up on it before but there is _chemistry_ between her coworker and client. There’s a secret to be unveiled here and she wonders if she isn’t the first person to notice. If anything, it’s gossip to pry out of Deacon later on. MacCready leaves and Callie takes her time sitting back down after watching him go. When she looks back, Madelyn is flashing a knowing smirk.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Madelyn asks slowly, almost laughing at the way Callie’s face turns as bright red as her lipstick and dress. “About MacCready?”

“Nope,” she answers rather flatly. Callie’s embarrassment and quick denial switches to annoyance with a large sigh. “ _Fuck_ , alright. It’s complicated.”

“Is that all it is?” Madelyn pushes with a soft chuckle. “Maybe I should lock the two of you in a room and—”

“You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Madelyn laughs. “You two could use it.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss _Writing-Love-Letters_ to a man she hardly knows,” Callie doesn’t mean any offense by her words. It seems _she’s_ been talking to Deacon as well. She tries her hardest to look intimidating towards Madelyn and the two women have a short and silent standoff before humor wins out, the two laughing the tension away. It’s safe to say that Callie isn’t ready to talk about _whatever_ is happening between her and MacCready.

Madelyn forfeits and doesn’t press _either_ issue. “Fair enough.”

“You owe me, Hardy,” Callie suggests. “Nick does too, but I’ll deal with _him_ later.”

“How does drinks, music and dancing sound to you? Blow off some much needed steam?”

Madelyn can’t resist the offer. “Deal.”

* * *

 

It’s freezing.

It may be late April, but the winter chill won’t leave Boston so quickly. Madelyn shivers in the passenger seat of Nick’s old Cadillac, tugging his borrowed trench coat tighter around her shoulders. It reeks of cigarette smoke but with how cold she is she almost considers picking up the habit just to heat up her body in some way.

“I should’ve warned you this would turn into a stakeout,” Nick sighs from the driver seat. He’s had a pair of binoculars glued towards the building a few hundred feet away for the last three hours. “Damn Winter, thinking we have all night to sit on him.”

“It’s not like we have any other cases to work on,” Madelyn mentions, flipping open one of the many files she brought with her in their mad dash to Quincy on a lead. “We need to close this fast and without _you_ getting shot up again.”

“Don’t remind me,” Nick grumbles, clenching his robotic fist as if mentioning it makes him uncomfortable. “Are you sure this is the right place?”  

Madelyn hums in response, flicking through the files until she pauses on a specific item. She hides her smile at the newest letter from Danse—she had been reading it, thinking about how to respond when Nick rushed her to travel with him to one of Eddie’s potential hiding spots. In an effort to hide it she snuck it into the only logical place. Reading it now brings a flutter of warmth to her chest.  

“Another letter from loverboy?”

“What?” Madelyn snaps the folder closed, feeling rather foolish that she’s unable to act naturally.

All the effort she’s put into hiding the letters has made her jumpy. It’s bad enough that _Piper_ knows but the journalist swears she hasn’t told a soul. Then again, Madelyn isn’t sure why she’s keeping the correspondence a secret when it’s clear her friends already seem to know what is going on without her telling them. Nick turns his attention to her as she struggles to come up with something to say.

“It’s my job to figure things out,” he explains with a chuckle. “You shouldn’t leave things that you don’t want others to see laying about.”

Madelyn wonders if Nick actually had the audacity to go through her personal items and frowns. First Deacon and then Piper—if her own boss and most trusted confident is sifting through her private life she is about ready to quit the agency.

“I didn’t _read_ the letters sweetheart,” he reassures as if he can read her mind. Nick lowers the binoculars so he can look at her properly. “I figured you’d tell me what was going on when you were ready.”

“Oh,” Madelyn feels guilty for assuming otherwise. She can trust Nick—perhaps he can offer some sound advice. “Do you remember the New Years eve party?”

“I remember you leaving early with somebody,” he pauses to light up a new cigarette. “Piper described him as _hunky_ but I didn’t get a good look.” Nick is courteous enough to blow his smoke away from her, out the small crack in the window. “When you came back you looked fairly happy.”

“I was,” Madelyn agrees and the memories of that night come back like it happened yesterday. “His name is Danse. He bumped into me— _literally_ —spilt whiskey on my favorite dress.” She can feel her lips pulling up into a grin as she continues. “He was on the balcony when I went out for fresh air.”

“I can’t explain the instant connection I felt with him,” she lifts her fingers to her lips when they tingle slightly, remembering the feel of Danse’s mouth on hers. “The way he kissed me—I’ve never felt that way about somebody I just met.”

“Love at first sight,” Nick interjects and Madelyn’s heartbeat flickers as she inhales sharply. She looks at him in bewilderment, unsure of why he said that. “I don’t think I’ve seen you look so happy in all the years I’ve known you, Madelyn. You’re glowing.”

She can feel her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. “I am?”

“It’s a good look,” Nick softly laughs. “Piper _also_ said you were at that diner for over an hour.”

Madelyn nods, “we were on borrowed time.” Her eyes flick down to his letter in the case file—his handwriting is neat for a soldier, like every letter of every word was written with expert care. “I never expected to see him again, let alone receive a letter.”

“Love finds a way,” Nick’s voice is soft, almost dreamy. Madelyn isn’t sure she’s ever seen him hold that type of expression in all the time she’s known him. “Don’t let this old bucket of bolts fool you, sweetheart—I know what love is.”

_Love_ —Madelyn silently rolls the word on her tongue. She didn’t think it was possible to have that feeling in her heart again, not after Nate. She wonders if Nick is onto something and she’s just been so blind as to not see what is written so clearly in front of her. She’s _in love_. Madelyn doesn’t know what to do with the realization.

“Have you told him about—?”

“No,” Madelyn answers before Nick can say _his_ name. That’s when the shame and guilt comes back in full force. As genuinely happy as Danse’s letters and their _relationship_ have made her, there is a lingering feeling that she is betraying Nate by exposing her heart and soul to another man. She should’ve known that Nick would mention her late husband. “I know I need to.”

“Don’t make the same mistakes I did,” Nick takes a long drag of his cigarette and peers out the window. Madelyn’s momentary confusion slips away when Nick sighs, “ _Jenny_.”

Jennifer Lands. Nick’s fiancé—Nick’s _deceased_ fiancé. Madelyn knows about the case, knows that the only reason Nick takes the Eddie Winter case so personally is because the bastard is the one who killed her. Madelyn has never pushed Nick for more details about his lost love, knowing that he carries around the same walls around his heart. He isn’t one to over share when he doesn’t need to.

Madelyn reaches over the middle seat to place her hand over his, squeezing it in a comforting manner. “Tell me about her?”

“She was beautiful,” Nick focuses on the smoke between his fingers on his other hand, little white wisps rising to the roof of the car. “ _For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name_ —”

Madelyn doesn’t say anything when Nick breaks off, shaking his head with a frown. She knows what grief is like, how difficult it can be to speak about the dead. Nick finishes off his cigarette, pressing it into the small and full container on the dashboard.

“You can lose somebody you care about in an instant, without warning,” he looks at her and Madelyn nods, fully understanding. It’s ironic that _loss_ is what bonds her to her friends. “What I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t have anything left unsaid.”

The two sit in comfortable silence for a little while longer before Nick declares the stakeout is a bust. He drives her home, and the quiet gives Madelyn the chance to organize her thoughts. As much as Madelyn hates it, Nick is right. She needs to tell Danse about her past, about _Nate._ But first she must muster the courage.

* * *

 

_Danse,_

_I’ll have you know that I am taking your advice and trying to get out of my apartment more. I’ve even included proof. My co-worker Callie (the other woman in the photo) took me out for drinks and dancing—it’s her way of coping with stress and I can’t believe I never tried it before. I used to go out dancing…but that was a long time ago. Imagine me: a madwoman of a lawyer/detective trying to blend in with civilians with mediocre dancing. Our other co-worker Deacon went with us (the_ _child_ _man in the photo). While he is a capable partner, I’d rather be dancing with you._

_I really enjoy music and—this is embarrassing to admit—I enjoy singing as well. I don’t consider myself that talented so I usually keep the singing contained to my home and shower. If Dogmeat’s whining (or maybe he’s singing along?) is any indication, I’m no Ella Fitzgerald. Callie has been playing Four Seasons’ records at work to encourage productivity but when the music plays the last thing I want to be doing is reviewing case files. Sometimes we sing ‘Stay’ together, but that’s only if we’re sure nobody is listening._

_I can only imagine how lonely it must get in that bunk of yours. I used to have trouble sleeping—the silence drives me crazy. That’s when I got Dogmeat. He’s good to have around, even when he hogs the bed and pillow. I’ve also had an inactivated Mr. Handy for over a year now but I’m half afraid that if I activate him, I’ll have nothing to keep me busy in the house. The extra company might be nice, however. You can’t have too many robotic friends these days. I still struggle some nights, but it is getting easier with each day…and letter._

_For the first time in a long time I’m smiling. I’d be lying if I didn’t say you were the reason._

_-Madelyn_

* * *

 

_~~Madelyn~~ _ _Mads,_

_(If you continue to call yourself a madwoman I will have to start calling you ‘Mads’)_

_I’m glad to hear that you were able to have fun with your friends. It has been difficult not to spend time looking at the photo you sent me, re-familiarizing my mind with the curves of your face and remembering the exact shade of blue your eyes are. It’s a shame it isn’t in color. The camera we keep within the platoon pales in comparison, so I apologize for the poor quality of my return gift (and the crude gestures some of my fellow soldiers are making)._

_My squadron managed to salvage an old but working record player for the recreation room. It took some finagling but I was able to obtain a few records as well. I’m particularly fond of the song ‘December’ and what it reminds me of. As eager as I was to dance with you on New Years, it is a skill I lack. One day you’ll have to demonstrate how couples move to these songs. After all, you still owe me a dance._

_Sleep is hard to come by, especially in the trenches—I’ve never been very good at achieving a ‘good-night’s rest’. Some days can feel incredibly lonely, regardless of the soldiers surrounding me. I keep your picture with me on those days, so that the last face I see before I close my eyes is yours._

_-Danse_


	5. I Still Miss Someone

_“Hi honey.”_

_Madelyn instantly pauses the holotape—she can’t do this. The pain is still too raw. It hasn’t even been a week since a man in military garb came to her home with news of his death. A neatly tri-folded American flag, his dog tags, wedding ring and a single holotape—trinkets taken from his corpse by a fellow soldier. It doesn’t seem real, not without his body to bury. This is the last memory she has of Nate—she_ **_has_ ** _to do this._

_She presses play on the recorder, closing her eyes when she hears Nate’s voice again. It’s strained and quiet in sharp contrast to noise around him. It is a last testament on the battlefield where he will die and that knowledge and remorse is heard loud and clear when he speaks._

_"Hi honey,” he repeats, clearing his throat so he might speak louder. There’s some feedback and he mumbles something to another person to keep the recorder steady. “I don’t think I need to tell you how great of a woman you are, Maddie.”_

_Madelyn didn’t think she had any tears left when they start sliding down her cheeks. She chokes back a sob—she can’t let grief overwhelm her just yet._

_"You are so kind, and loving, and funny,” there’s a soft sigh that almost sounds like a laugh. “It was that smile of yours that I fell in love with all those years ago.”_

_“You never liked it when I left but you always waited for me,” Nate’s voice is waning. The person in the background struggles to keep him talking to he can say what he needs to. “You might not think so but you are so patient, especially with me.”_

_“I took that for granted this time,” the tremor in his tone makes it clear he is crying. Madelyn rests her head against the holotape player in a ditch-effort to be as close as she can to him—his voice. “I wanted to come home to you—I knew that our best days were yet to come. I would’ve rejoined the civilian workforce, watched you shake off that law degree and…and…we would build a family together.”_

_Madelyn can feel the anger bubbling beneath her skin, the resentment that he broke his promise. She thinks about how unfair it is that a stranger is with him in his last moments and can’t hold back her sobs as she listens to him struggle to breathe, let alone speak. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t what they planned._

_“Maddie,” her name on his lips has never sounded more heart breaking. “I’m so sorry.”_

_“Bye honey…” he says one last time. “I love you.”_

_There’s a large explosion that causes a shriek of feedback…and the holotape ends._

* * *

 

Madelyn gasps for air as she sits up straight in bed, startled awake by a nightmare. In her delusion she pats the space next to her, unsure of what or who she is looking for. It isn’t until she feels the cold void next to her that she realizes she is alone. It isn’t a nightmare—it’s reality.

Tears pool in the corners of her eyes and despite her best efforts to stem the flow, they spill over and down her cheeks. Madelyn buries her face in her hands, unable to prevent herself from crying. It’s been more than a year now since Nate died and yet the memories are so fresh in her mind that it feels like yesterday. In just one day her whole life was turned upside down. No matter how hard she tries to stay strong, now matter how much effort she puts into moving on from the pain, it always comes back and leaves her raw.

Madelyn sits on the edge of her bed to try and compose herself before she gets ready for another day at the office. She knows she will need a lot of coffee and concealer to hide her tired and sad expression from her coworkers. The last thing she needs is for them to give her sympathetic glances as she works. She reaches for a tissue from her nightstand but pauses, her heart aching at the photo placed there. Madelyn doesn’t even remember when she put the photo of Danse there—one of the pictures he sent in a letter over a month ago.

That’s where Nate’s photo used to be, she reminds herself.

All she can feel is guilt. Guilt for betraying Nate, for moving on so quickly with a man she hardly knows. It isn’t fair for her to give her heart to another person, especially when that person knows nothing about her past. Madelyn looks at the photo again, frowning at the smile Danse is flashing for the camera—for _her_. More shame and frustration. How did he ever manage to get past the defenses she had built around her heart? She moves the photo so it is face down before standing up, tugging her robe tight around her body.

 _Coffee_ she reminds herself.

Madelyn can hear Codsworth whirling away as she makes her way down the hallway and pauses in the bathroom momentarily to splash cold water on her face. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are puffy from crying but there isn’t much she can do to hide it right now. Codsworth will undoubtedly fuss over her regardless, something she is still getting used to. She finally decided to activate the Mr. Handy a few months ago, right after her birthday—a gift Nate left her to help around the house while he was gone. Turns out her late husband had already programed it, making sure the robot’s first priority is to take care of her. The hardest part was explaining to Codsworth that _sir_ isn’t coming home.

“Good morning Miss Madelyn,” Codsworth greets, spinning his arms around. Madelyn interprets it as a _wave_. “Coffee for you, a perfect 96 centigrade.”

She takes the cup from him with a tentative smile, letting it warm her hands before she raises it to her lips. The aroma alone gives some comfort to her aching heart. Codsworth’s eyes zoom in on her face, studying her expression, but the robot says nothing and for that she is grateful.

“Morning sunshine,” another voice calls from the couch.

Madelyn isn’t going to even ask how Deacon got into her apartment while she was sleeping. He’s dressed normally for once and is missing his wig. She doesn’t see him like this all too often and it makes her slightly suspicious. Did Nick ask him to check up on her? He moves towards the kitchen island where she is standing.

“Figured I’d make a house call—”

His expression falters when he glances at her, lips in a flat line. She tries to act as if nothing is bothering her and tightens her grip on the coffee mug. “What?”

“What’s wrong?” Deacon asks, pushing away his glasses to get a proper look at her. Madelyn flinches away when he tries to wipe at her cheek, her fingers brushing under her eyes in hopes of removing the last traces of tears. “Charmer?”

“What are you doing here?” Madelyn asks, avoiding the question. She switches her gaze between Deacon and Codsworth. She’s suddenly questioning if Nate programmed him correctly or not.

“This man said he knew you, and insisted upon entering the house so he might sleep on the couch,” Codsworth explains. Deacon only smiles his signature ‘ _I’m innocent_ ’ grin.

“Listen, Codsworth, honey…” Madelyn pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance, but figures no person or machine is a match for Deacon. “The next time a strange man comes through that door, knock him unconscious.”

Codsworth spins again and his eyes move up and down as if he is nodding. “Yes mum!”

Silence settles between the three of them as she sits down on a barstool, focusing on the rising steam from her cup. Codsworth goes back to working in the kitchen, cooking breakfast while simultaneously cleaning the dishes. She can still feel Deacon staring at her, silently trying to decipher what might be wrong. Madelyn wonders that if he tries hard enough that he’ll actually be able to read her mind—he’s scary like that sometimes.

“I haven’t seen you this upset in a long time, Charmer,” he comments in a more serious tone. Madelyn glances at him out of the corner of her eye—at least he _looks_ sincere. “You’ve been so happy the last few months ever since those letters started coming.”

Her gut twists at the mention and she takes a long sip of coffee in an attempt to quell the nerves. “I was, yes,” is all she can manage at first.

“Hey, I know I’m an asshole but you can talk to me,” Deacon offers a small smile. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Flattery will only get you so far,” Madelyn sighs as she finally turns to meet his gaze. “I dreamed about Nate,” she pauses to steady her breathing when she feels her emotions wavering. When Deacon raises a curious brow she shakes her head. “It wasn’t a _good_ dream.”

“I feel…guilty. Conflicted,” Madelyn continues. She knits her eyebrows together and clenches her jaw slightly. “No, conflicted is too mild of a word.”

“About what?” Deacon asks. “About Danse?”

Madelyn’s heart nearly skips a beat at his name. She purses her lips tight as she nods. The familiar sting of tears causes her to press her palms to her eyes—she’s so sick of crying. “I just—I don’t know what to do.”

“Would you like me to cheer you up mum?” Codsworth suddenly interrupts but doesn’t give her the chance to answer. “Charles Dickens walks into a bar. He asks the bartender for a Martini to which the bartender replies—”

“Olive or twist!” Deacon chuckles but shakes his head. “Codsworth, _buddy_ , we gotta’ get you some new material.”

“I happen to _like_ my metal plating.”

 _Now_ Deacon laughs. “That’s a good one!”

Madelyn does flash a faint smile but her heart still feels heavy. She doesn’t know how to shake the agonizing feeling or if she is even capable of doing so. It has been a constant sequence of up and down ever since Nate died. She’d go weeks, sometimes months, feeling numb and cold to the world, on the verge of finding a way to join her husband. Then she’d find purpose and happiness, a reason to go on with life. It’s a cycle she wants to break—she thought she had when she met Danse.

“I’m sorry mum,” Codsworth says. “It seems the timing on my humor emitter array is not calibrated correctly.”

“It’s okay, Codsworth,” Madelyn reassures. “I know you mean well.”

“Isn’t there anything more I can do?”

Madelyn doesn’t mean to sound so cynical when she speaks. “I don’t suppose you know how to bring back the dead?”

That isn’t fair to ask of anybody. Even if it were possible, what makes _her_ so special that Nate would be brought back to her? She isn’t the only person that lost somebody to the war and isn’t the first spouse to become a widow.

“Come on Charmer,” Deacon tries to encourage her. “Nate would want you to move on and be happy.”

“How do you know?”

Madelyn isn’t even sure if that is true. Nate and her never talked about what the other should do if anything happened to them. Even their will was basic and only completed because of his enlistment. They lived their lives as if nothing bad would ever happen, making the mistake of taking their happy, easy life for granted. For all she knew, Nate never wanted her to forget him—something she isn’t sure she can do while forming a relationship with another man.  

“Is this about _Sir_?” even Codsworth’s tone is solemn. “You know, I only knew Sir James for a short time but he seemed so incredibly loving. He talked very highly of you, Miss Madelyn.”

 _James_. Another thing to feel guilty about. She thought it would be easier to distance herself from the hurt by reverting to her maiden name but hearing it now just fills her with regret. This isn’t the feeling Madelyn was hoping for when she woke up this morning. It has always been easier for her to squash down the heartache and deal with it later— _alone_. Then again, perhaps she’s been keeping her pain private from even her closest friends for too long. If therapy won’t work, maybe talking to Deacon and Codsworth will.

“He wanted to surprise you with me for your birthday. Left directions on how to bake your favorite desert in a letter to you—”

“Wait,” Madelyn interrupts. “He wrote a letter for me? When?”

“Why yes,” Codsworth’s arms twirl around his body before pulling a small envelope from a compartment on his body. “I was instructed to give this to you upon your birthday.”

Madelyn’s expression drops and she can hear Deacon snickering next to her. Codsworth studies the two of them but doesn’t understand their reactions.

“By my calculations, it will be delivered to you in approximately three-hundred and one—”

“Codsworth,” Madelyn interrupts and reaches to take the letter from him. “I’m not waiting until next July to read this.”

The robot hovers, as if contemplating her words. Maybe she’s getting used to reading his expressions (if she can call it that) after all. “Of course, mum.”

Madelyn studies the envelope in her hands. It’s nothing extraordinary, just a white square with her name written in Nate’s familiar blocky handwriting. She wastes no time in opening it and it’s like the whole world freezes as she reads over the last words Nate will ever give her. It is surprising that as she reads she feels a weight being lifted off her shoulders, the tightness in her chest fading. A calm warmth radiates through her instead and she swears she can _feel_ Nate looming just behind her, can hear him speaking the words right into her ear. Madelyn has sensed his presence before but never in a way that has left her… _comforted_ , like a final warm hug and kiss to her cheek. This is the last memory of him she was hoping for.

“Charmer?” Deacon tries to pull her back to the moment. “Madelyn?”

She blinks up at him, her mind and heart racing. “Tell Nick I’m going to be late.”

She has a letter to write.

* * *

 

_Maddie,_

_I haven’t told you yet but I got my papers—I’ll be heading out for one final tour of duty. It isn’t the ideal situation and part of me is frightened of what your reaction will be…I know it’s the last thing you want and that Alaska is the last place you want me to go. I feel like I’ve been gone so often that I’ve missed out on life with you. I married you because you are my best friend and I realize now that best friends—husbands—shouldn’t take their wives for granted._

_I’ve been thinking a lot about our future. I think about the possibility that a child could enter our lives in the coming months (Lord knows I’ve been having fun trying for one). I also think about all the preparations we’ve made for building our family: the crib, the tiny clothes, even joking about potential names. It sounds foolish but even one child, one little life created with you would be enough. Regardless, you will be an amazing mother._

_This is where my fears step in. I’ll admit that I am afraid to leave, despite knowing my duty to this country. I know you hate it when I say this but I feel like it’s also my duty to protect you, to take care of you and to put your needs above my own. You’ve always been so fiercely independent—so much so that I was afraid you’d never agree to marry me (what a relief I felt when you said yes). Still, I can’t help but wonder what you would do if anything were to happen to me. It’s part of the reason why I decided to buy this Mr. Handy in the first place. I hope Codsworth here can provide some company while I’m gone._

_I love you so much, Madelyn. I want you to remember that. You are my best friend and my saving grace. The first and last thing I think about in the morning and at night. You have made me so incredibly happy. If I break my promise—if I don’t come home again, I want you to know how much you deserve to be just as happy. It would be a sin if you kept that beautiful smile of yours to yourself._

_-Nate_

* * *

_Danse,_

_I am so sorry for the pause in my letters. I hope I didn’t cause you to worry about me, that wasn’t my intention. I’ve been holding something back from you and I think it is time that I told you the truth, regardless of what it might make you think of me._

_I have been vague about my past, about the reasons why I am against the war. When we first met you asked me if it was because I had lost somebody and I lied when I told you no. The truth is that on March 4_ _ th _ _, 2067 Lieutenant Nathan James, my husband of nearly seven years, was reported missing in action, presumed dead._

_I guess that will explain my hesitation on New Years and my disbelief when I received your first letter. I didn’t want history to repeat itself. Regardless of how strong my feelings for you developed as we exchanged letters, I was struggling with the guilt that I might be betraying my late husband. I tried to convince myself that I was unworthy of any kind of happiness. I realize now how unfair that is, especially to you. I’m sorry if I led you on in any way._

_I am still recovering. I am still rebuilding my life but now with a new sense of clarity that perhaps it will be okay if I move on. I still love Nate, he will always be a part of me but I should’ve understood a long time ago that this is what he would’ve wanted for me. There is nothing I want more than to have the chance to build that new life with you. I can only hope you feel the same._

_A few months ago Nick mentioned something to me that sparked a feeling I just can’t shake. It is incredibly crazy of me to try and deny it when it was so obviously an instant realization. I only refrained from writing it because it felt like it wasn’t something I wanted to say in a letter. I now know that I shouldn’t wait to express my feelings, shouldn’t think that I’ll have another opportunity. I didn’t believe Nick at first but he was right…he always is._

_I’m in love. I’m in love with you._

_-Madelyn._

* * *

 

_Mads,_

_I hope you are doing well—it’s been a while since I heard from you last. I heard some chatter that mail and general correspondence has had difficulty getting through to the camps. I tried to call your office on your birthday as a surprise but I couldn’t even get connected to an operator. One of my soldiers got a terminal to work, however. If for some reason the flowers I sent didn’t arrive…well then I suppose I will have to deliver them myself._

_It’s always cold in Anchorage but with winter closing in the temperatures are sure to drop and there are already several blizzard warnings in effect. I wish I could say I am out of the danger zone but as more men are lost to the cold and the enemy, I will be moving up to the front lines and into hostile territory. My squadron has been selected to run one last operation before we are discharged back to civilian duty. I am looking forward to completing my service and coming home to you. As of right now, it looks like I will be home just in time for New Years. I can’t wait to meet you on that balcony again and finally cash in on that rain check for a dance._

_I was looking forward to hearing from you before I left but I understand the circumstances aren’t ideal. I will try my hardest to send you another letter when I am able and have informed the communication team to hold any letters from you until I come back. Please don’t hesitate to send more of your own letters. Keep safe._

_-Danse_

_PS: I hope it isn’t too much to ask for another picture (you said your reporter friend Piper had a color camera?), so that I can show off to the men the woman that has captured my heart._


	6. Auld Lang Syne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to update. I started a new job and my brain had to focus on training. Now I'm slowly getting back into balancing work and fun! Enjoy.

Madelyn can’t decide if the thunder and rain on Christmas Eve is a bad omen or not. It’s due to storm all week and the local weathergirl warns that skies might not be clear enough on New Years Eve for fireworks. Not that Madelyn is bothered by the weather—it is all very fitting for her mood over the last few months.

“What a perfect way to end the year,” she mumbles to herself as she stands outside the agency doors, beneath the awning to stay dry. The streets are abandoned, but the eerie quiet actually calms Madelyn. This time of year is always slow for the agency, when everyone—including the crime makers of Boston—is with loved ones. It’s what she should be doing as well, but she can’t force herself to join the holiday party inside.

If she had it her way she wouldn’t have left the peace and quiet of her apartment, where she was safe to wallow in her own self-pity. Madelyn knows deep down however, that if she doesn’t show up it would only cause her more trouble in the long run. Eventually _somebody_ would’ve shown up to drag her from her home—she needs to show her friends and colleagues she’s still willing to mingle with society, regardless of how uninterested she’s become. Madelyn looks at the snow and rain fluttering around her one more time before taking in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She can manage an hour or so.

When she first enters the building she is overwhelmed by what she sees. Nick said he was going to decorate, but she didn’t realize he was going to make it look so _festive_. There are lights and garland strung up along the walls, red and green streamers hanging from the ceiling and in the corner stands a bright green pine tree, decorated top to bottom in trinkets. Madelyn can’t believe it.

“Glad to see you made it, sweetheart,” Nick’s voice doesn’t surprise her as she continues to take in the atmosphere, a small smile spreading when she hears Bing Crosby’s Christmas album echoing throughout the office. “The storm didn’t give you too much trouble I hope.”

She turns to face him and immediately snaps her hand to her mouth, choking back laughter at the sight of what he’s wearing, his usual faded trench swapped out for a large, fluffy red Santa coat. Nick stops her before she can tease him.

“Spare me the ‘ol Saint Nick’ jokes.”

“Did Deacon put you up to this?” she grins and Nick rolls his eyes as he takes her coat, hanging it up near the front door before encouraging her to walk with him through the throng of people to his office. Friends, co-workers and clients smile when they see her and Madelyn is grateful nobody flashes a look of pity her way.

“How are you doing sweetheart?” Nick asks when they are in the privacy of his office. It doesn’t take him long to produce the almost empty bottle of aged whiskey from his desk, pouring two glasses out and offering her one. “I’ve been holding back on being nosy but I just want to make sure you’re doing alright…considering.”

Madelyn knows what he is hinting at but she doesn’t know if she’s ready to talk about it. It would make the whole situation _real_.

“Jesus, Nick, I can’t take anything you say seriously right now,” Madelyn reaches over to snatch the red hat off of his head. “It’s like Santa is trying to give me love advice.”

“ _Detective_ Santa,” Nick jokingly corrects. He leans against his desk and Madelyn takes the spot next to him, the two sharing a comfortable moment as the sounds of the party drift through the open door. “Talk to me, Madelyn. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m not. Not really, at least,” Madelyn answers honestly, knowing she can’t lie to him. She stares down at the amber liquid in her glass. “I haven’t heard from Danse in months. I don’t even know if he got the last letter I sent, or the others but…”

It is still too difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that he might be dead. It is easier for her to think that he got her letter, her confession of love and decided it wasn’t what he wanted. Madelyn knows she is fooling herself—the likelihood of _that_ situation is outlandish but the tradeoff is something she doesn’t want to go through. Not again. The lack of closure makes it all the more painful.

“I’m sorry, sweets,” Nick sighs. “I know that it tiring to hear but…” he trails off and Madelyn understands how hard it is for her friends to console her. Regardless of how close they are, she likes to take care of her personal problems of her own. He rests his free hand on her shoulder. “You know I’m always here for you.”

Madelyn nods and smiles at Nick, thankful for his support. She clinks their glasses together before taking a long sip, trying with all her might to push the sadness away. It _is_ Christmas after all, and she still has a lot to be thankful for. They slowly migrate back to the party and she watches from the sidelines as her friends mingle and laugh, Deacon waving his arms in the air as he tells some outrageous story. Piper is taking photographs, encouraging people to huddle together so her holiday spread will beat the other newspapers come tomorrow morning. She watches as Callie dances with Mac’s son Duncan, his feet on hers as she leads them through a simple waltz. It is comforting to see the people she cares about in such high spirits.

“Hey boss,” MacCready is standing next to her, a small smile on his face as he nurses a cup of eggnog, looking out at where Callie and Duncan are dancing. “Enjoying the party?”

“Are you?” Madelyn snickers a little at how distracted he seems, his focus unmoving from the middle of the room. She’s only known him a short time and yet compared to when they first met, he has become more relaxed, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Madelyn knows it is in no small part thanks to her blonde co-worker.

“How _is_ Callie?” Madelyn smiles at the way MacCready reacts, his cheeks sporting a light blush as he avoids eye contact. “How’s the case?”

The two might like to think their relationship—whatever it is—isn’t obvious to the rest of the world, but the more time they spend together on the Gunner case, the closer they become. Madelyn is glad she had them work together, seeing how happy they are now. Even with the accident in October that saw Callie injured, it only made the two that much more inseparable. Not that Deacon’s ‘matchmaking’ hasn’t helped either.

MacCready seems to notice he hasn’t answered Madelyn and clears his throat, finally tearing his gaze away to look at her. “She’s great,” he answers, unashamed. “Having her this close to me has made me happier than I’ve ever been before.”

“Love looks good on you two,” Madelyn playfully nudges his arm. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her so…content.”

“I—” MacCready fumbles for a response, apparently overwhelmed by Madelyn’s suggestion. “Thanks, boss. For everything.”

“Speaking of,” he continues and Madelyn is confused as he pulls a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. “We wanted to repay the favor.”

Madelyn looks down at what he hands her and the number scratched in red ink. Before she can ask what exactly it is for, she hears her name yelled over the music and _something_ bumping into her legs.

“Miss Maddie!” Duncan hugs her legs tightly, resting his chin on her knee as he beams up at her. “Hi Miss Maddie!”

For once Madelyn doesn’t mind the old nickname and laughs at the little lisp caused by his missing teeth. Last time she saw him, he seemed very proud for finally giving something for the tooth fairy to find. Callie is close behind him, chuckling at the young child as she moves to stand close to MacCready.

“You look pretty,” Duncan says, still staring up and Madelyn can’t help herself from lifting him up into a hug, resting him on her hip. The five-year old is getting a little big for carrying, but it doesn’t stop her from wanting to dote on him. Duncan’s charm is hard to ignore. He giggles when Madelyn places a small kiss to his forehead. “Miss Callie already kissed me!”

“Oh _did_ she?” MacCready asks and Callie laughs, slipping her arm through his.

“Are you jealous?” she teases, leaning over to place a kiss of her own on MacCready’s cheek. The blush he develops now is much brighter and obvious than before, something that seems to amuse Duncan. Callie turns her attention to Madelyn. “Did you give it to her yet?”

“My gift?” Duncan asks excitedly and Madelyn props him back down on the ground so he can pull a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I drew this for you for Christmas.”

“This is you. And this is Mr. Danse,” Duncan presses his finger to the paper where he’s drawn stick figure versions of her and him, holding hands. She is in blue and he is in military green. Surrounding them both are tiny envelopes and crudely drawn hearts. “And these are all the letters he sends you.”

It is heartwarming and more thoughtful than she thinks he realizes. Madelyn crouches down to hug him again before taking it, grinning at the little details he’s gotten right about Danse. _Somebody_ must have told him what ‘Miss Maddie’s military man’ looked like.

“Thank you Duncan,” she holds the paper to her chest. “This is so wonderful. I’m going to keep it on my desk for safe keeping, and so everyone can see.”

Duncan beams in response, pleased by her appreciation as he looks up at his father for approval. MacCready nods and it isn’t long before the toddler is running away, laughing loudly when Deacon announces he is going to chase after him. It gives Madelyn time to pull the other scrap of paper from her dress pocket, reading over the series of numbers again and again.

“We did some digging,” MacCready starts to explain.

“It’s what we’re good at,” Callie cuts him off with a smirk. “I know you said that communication was down all over Anchorage, but we found a number that is still in service.”

Madelyn’s heart starts to race as she thinks of the possibility of reaching Danse, or _somebody_ that may know his fate. Every letter she’s sent has gone unanswered, if she can even assume they made it to the war zone in the first place.

“Are you sure?”

Callie nods and her expression softens with an understanding only _she_ can offer. They come from similar backgrounds, similar tragedies—if anybody can understand and actually sympathize with Madelyn, it’s Callie. Her friend gestures back towards Nick’s office. “Why don’t you give it a try? It’s still the afternoon out there, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

Madelyn can only hope. She nearly pushes them both over as she hugs them simultaneously, a myriad of emotions building up within her. “ _Thank_ you,” she can’t be any more sincere.

She makes a mad dash back into Nick’s office, this time closing the door to block out the sounds of the party. She sits on the edge of his chair as she fiddles with the telephone, her hands shaking as she dials the number carefully, half afraid she’ll make a mistake and half afraid she’ll actually get through. As soon as there’s a connection and the line starts ringing, Madelyn is suddenly unsure if she can do this. No matter how much she tries to steady her breathing or heart rate, she feels like she might burst from the tension.

And then suddenly the other end picks up and the world stops.

“Outpost Gladius,” a woman’s voice shouts over the background commotion. It isn’t the greatest connection but it is more than Madelyn can ask for. “Hello? This is Gladius!”

“I’m looking for a Lieutenant Danse,” Madelyn finally answers and holds her breath, closing her eyes in anticipation. “I’m calling from—”

“Ma’am, this is a secure line, not for civilian use,” the female voice on the other end reprimands. Madelyn isn’t surprised she was found out, with her meek voice. “How did you get this number?”

Madelyn sighs in defeat. “I’m sorry…I only wanted to—”

“Wait,” the other woman nearly shouts in interruption and Madelyn is surprised and confused. “This is crazy to ask but, are you by chance…Madelyn Hardy?”

Madelyn blinks her eyes open and gasps. She almost forgets to respond, her voice struggling to catch up with her mind. “Yes. This is she.”

“Oh, _oh_ ,” the voice fades for a moment. “Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to hear from you. My name is Haylen, I’m a medic and communications liaison for this battalion. I work with Lieutenant Danse—he’s spoken quite highly of you.”

“He has?” Madelyn can feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

“He has,” Haylen confirms. “He was very fond of you.”

“Was?”

There is a brief silence that threatens Madelyn’s heart to stop. Haylen sighs over the line and while the connection is bad it is easy to tell she has nothing but bad news.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Haylen starts. “Danse and his squadron are MIA. We lost contact with them weeks ago and haven’t been able to track them in the storm.”

All the emotions Madelyn has been struggling to keep down threaten to bubble out of her as she clamps her hand over her mouth. She should’ve known this was a possibility—the likelihood of him meeting the same fate as Nate was always high.

“A few _have_ made their way back,” Haylen’s voice is sympathetic. “Bloodied, cold and hungry but alive.”

Madelyn almost doesn’t ask. “Any word from Danse?”

“A few of the boys said he was alive when they saw him last, that he was working to get the whole squad back in time for the New Year celebrations back home,” she answers and Madelyn can’t tell if she’s being honest or offering a desperate woman some comfort. “I wouldn’t give up on the Lieutenant just yet ma’am.”

“I—I wasn’t planning on it,” Madelyn answers, regardless of her mood before the call.

“And trust me when I say I’ve kept all your correspondence safe for him when he gets back,” Haylen laughs and Madelyn quickly learns the woman is being honest. “I think it would be damn cruel if you two didn’t see each other again.”

“Thank you,” Madelyn means it.

She sits in the office for a while after the call is disconnected, trying to convince herself to be more optimistic. She looks down at the picture Duncan gave her and smiles, knowing she can believe he will come back. It’s the first shred of hope she’s had since receiving his last letter months ago—hope she doesn’t want to let go of just yet.

* * *

 

“New Year, New Madelyn.”

She repeats the mantra under her breath the entire morning, a reminder to stay composed. Brick by brick she is rebuilding the walls around her heart. She can’t—and _won’t_ —let the pain radiating within consume her, not again. There is too much at stake, too many people that depend on her at the agency for her to mourn a loss she isn’t even sure of. She has to push forward, no matter what.

To think how hopeful she was last night, dressed up in the same blue dress as the year before—small stain in the same place Danse had spilled his drink—a wide and hopeful grin on her face as she sang and danced with her friends. Hopeful that by the time Nat King Cole was playing that she would spot him out of the corner of her eye and they would finally have their dance.

 _Foolish_.

How hopeful she _still_ was when she left the dance floor just before midnight to wait on the balcony where they shared their first kiss. The rain and cold snow didn’t bother her, knowing that she’d soon be warm. How each time she heard footsteps behind her she would hold her breath and dare herself to turn around so the first thing he saw was her bright smile. How the hope finally began to fade as the clock struck midnight, every verse of Auld Lang Syne a vice grip on her heart.

Madelyn shakes her head, pushing away the anguished thoughts and reminds herself why it was stupid of her to be so optimistic in the first place. How she’ll never expose herself to that kind of hurt ever again, never let her guard down for another person. It makes perfect sense to her—how can you get hurt if there’s nobody that can get close enough to do so?

“New Year,” she reminds herself as she makes her commute. “New Madelyn.”

When she arrives at the office she is surprised to see she isn’t the only one who decided to skip the holiday in favor of work. Callie is on the phone at the front desk, flashing an annoyed expression as she scribbles down some notes. Madelyn thinks to remind Nick to hire a _real_ secretary so the poor woman doesn’t have to balance the calls _and_ casework.

“No rest for the wicked,” Callie mentions as Madelyn passes, handing off a stack of pink slips marked ‘ _while you were away_ ’. “Brace yourself.”

Madelyn is confused by her mumbled warning until she opens the door to her office, pausing for a moment to count how many people are in the room. It was as if the party from last night migrated to the agency and nobody left. She moves to place her bag and coat on her desk before turning to the closest person.

Piper is there, ready with her first edition of the New Year— _The Minutemen: right on time or too late to save Boston?_

“That’s all we need,” Nick mutters from his seat as he glances over the paper. “Some vigilante group doing our job for us.”

“I hear they are looking at taking back Quincy from the gangs there,” MacCready explains. “Bunch of military Gunners versus the _neighborhood watch_.”

Madelyn is too distracted by the article covering the holiday festivities, frowning at how sad her expression looks in the group photo taken the previous night. She wanted to bury herself in work and try to forget and yet she can’t seem to focus on what everybody else is talking about.

“They call themselves the Minutemen…or something,” Deacon adds. “Kind of catchy…not as catchy as _The Railroad_ but—”

“Stop trying to make that a thing, Deacon,” Piper scoffs and he only pouts.

“It so _is_ already a thing,” he argues. “Where do you think I get all my information from?”

“Information you so kindly share with—” Nick cuts off as his tone shifts into sarcasm. “Oh wait, you _don’t_ share that information.”

“That’s why his hair is so big,” MacCready snickers to himself. “It’s full of secrets.”

“It’s not his _real_ hair,” Piper mumbles.

Deacon gasps and Madelyn smacks her hand across her face in disbelief of the conversation. Perhaps they should’ve had the day off after all…or not drank so much champagne and whiskey at the party. Regardless, she doesn’t think she can handle this amount of ridiculousness so early in the day. There’s a knock on Madelyn’s office door and yet nobody seems to register the sound except her. She sighs as her friends continue to argue about _nothing_ , even as Callie pops her head through the doorway with a large grin. Madelyn wonders what she could be so happy about with this morning’s news or _what_ the blonde is up to now.

“I’m interrupting but I don’t’ really care,” she announces and the room quiets slightly.

Madelyn leans against the front of her desk, wondering what she wants. “More bad news?”

“Does it look like I have more bad news?” Callie laughs. “There’s _somebody_ here to see you.”

“Tell them to wait,” Madelyn shakes her head. She gestures to the crowd of people already crammed in her office. Some of them turn to see what Callie wants. “We need to settle this—”

“Trust me,” Callie pushes the door open so there’s space for her to enter. “He’s waited long enough.”

Madelyn is about to argue when the person passes in front of Callie to enter the room and her heart lunges into her throat. The room falls silent as they all glance from her to the man now standing in the doorway. She can’t believe it—

“Danse?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
